


Came Back Haunted

by Squash (JeSuisGourde)



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Post-Movie: Pacific Rim: Uprising (2018)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 17:03:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15912543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeSuisGourde/pseuds/Squash
Summary: Hermann doesn't like to give up. He has to at least try to get to Newton under the precursors controlling his mind. He has to try to talk to the man he knew. The precursors want him to leave Newton behind, but he thinks he can get him to fight.





	Came Back Haunted

**Author's Note:**

> I thought Pacific Rim Uprising was a fun movie, up until the very end when they left so many questions unanswered. 10 more minutes of scenes and they could have tied up so many loose ends! So I wrote this because it was the loose end I was most annoyed about. (On a different and less important note, why didn't they at least mention Raleigh and say he was off doing idk a recon mission somewhere or something?)

The world is ending again and there isn't enough time for him to stop and think. No time to think about Newton, about the things that have messed with his head, about the bruises Hermann can feel blooming on his throat, about the man that was Newton-but-not-Newton disappearing round the corner while he gasped for breath.

Instead, he throws himself into science, into numbers and chemicals and the formula for the thrusters, into Liwen Shao's sleek designs and his own knowledge of how to cobble together something from nothing. Throws himself headlong into the terror of taking Marshal Quan's place in the command center. Into yet another fight to save the world with nothing but shoestrings and hope.

In the end, when they win, it doesn't feel like a victory.

Hermann watches from a catwalk as Lambert and a squadron of guards frog-march a cuffed and snarling Newton into the Shatterdome and down to a cell. A sick feeling grows in his stomach and he has to turn away, can't face the shock that it was _Newton_ that did this.

Even though everyone else is, he can't stand to be there when they interrogate Newton, or rather, the thing inside Newton. It's been ten long years and he still has nightmares. The precursors inside Newton's head give nothing away. The cut on his face has been cleaned and he's been dressed in scrubs instead of that stupid vest. It's been ten years and he should really be over it by now. Sometimes it's not a nightmare but the memory of finding Newton bloodied and gasping after drifting with a kaiju brain. Ten years and a drift with a dying kaiju has brought them down to _this_.

-

Hermann is reading in his office, trying to relax as best as his nerves can allow him when he thinks of it. It's a stupid, idiotic flash of brilliance and he's not sure why he didn't think of it before and then the thought of it shoots him down the brain stem of a kaiju and into a panic attack.

When he can breathe again, he wipes his mouth with a handkerchief and goes to find Shao and Pentecost.

His proposal leaves Jake agape and Liwen staring at him with a sort of analytical consideration. Jake crosses his arms. “So one of us will have to drift with him, then.”

“No, nobody's drifting with him. He doesn't drift with anything. It would be like a simulation, similar to the way the cadets use Sarah for training. Only this will be a computer simulation. A mirroring program. A blank.” Hermann leans over Liwen's shoulder and presses a few buttons on her console, bringing up a holographic model of the neural handshake program. “The neural link digs all the way down into the deepest, most intense memories, into the subconscious. If we dig deep enough, under the precursors, we could talk to Newton. We could get him to fight them.”

“And if it fails?”

“Then we know he's too far gone. And—and you can do with him what you like.” Hermann grits his teeth. “Just let me try this. I think it might work. I want to try talking to him.”

“Fine,” Jake nods. “Use whatever and whoever you need. I really do hope this works.”

“So do I.”

-

He is not ready. Armed guards place the helmet on Newton's head, despite the fact that he is strapped wrists-and-ankles to the chair. Hermann winces at the bland expression and coolly indifferent raised eyebrow that is so clearly not Newton. It has taken him two months to complete the programming, to test its ability, to be sure it will work. Two months of talks with Liwen, frustrated discussions with programmers and engineers and neurologists. Two months have culminated in him, standing in the cell, Newton strapped to a chair in the center, computers and screens and wires at the back, and _now_ he's nervous. He doesn't think he's ready for this, but he has to be. Jake had wanted to try it, had wanted to be the one to interrogate Newton, but Hermann had refused. “You don't know him,” he'd argued. “The precursor will block him out quite easily. I worked with him for years. He knows who I am. I think I might be able to do it.” And Jake had conceded, moving instead to stand behind the one-way glass window, with a hand on the intercom just in case.

The precursor follows him with Newton's eyes and Hermann swallows, feeling himself sweating under his suit, willing his hands not to shake so much.

“Commencing neural link in three, two, one.” He winces as he presses the button. He remembers what it's like, the drowning, pulling sensation of spiraling down into your own brain, into someone else's brain, pasts entwining themselves, old memories being dragged up because they're what makes you _you_ and the neural handshake relies on that fundamental self, the link between compatible lives and motions. Only this time Newton is drifting with a nothing, with himself, and Hermann isn't sure if that's better or worse.

Newton's screams have that horrible double tone to them, like someone else is working his vocal chords. He strains against the restraints, head thrashing; red drips from one nostril and somehow it's not the nosebleed that makes Hermann shudder, but the blood vessel that has burst in Newton's left eye, leaving the white of it red and cloudy. The screaming finally changes, from two voices to one, hoarse and breathless and scared.

“I think it's working,” Hermann tells the control room. He checks the computer readout. “Neural link is established.”

“Ask him how the hell he let this happen,” Jake's voice growls in his ear.

“Give me a moment.” He steps away from the computers and into Newton's field of vision. “Newton.”

“Hermann?” The voice is the familiar excitable rasp. Newton's gaze jumps nervously across the room. “Hey, buddy. Any chance you could get these things off my wrists? They're really starting to chafe.”

“I am sorry, Newton.”

“It's not your fault, man. I can't fight them. I'm not strong enough. They're here, in my head, they're never going to let go.”

Hermann wants to shake him by the shoulders, but some quiet fear forces him to keep his distance. “You've got to try, Newton. For your own sake.”

“I screwed up, man. I can't fix it this time.” He shakes he head and shrugs helplessly. “This isn't some calculation I can just reprogram.”

Hermann is not good at interacting with people. He knows this. There is a line still drawn on the floor in his lab to show it; there are files upon files of his unheeded formal complaints to show it. Hermann is not good at interacting with people, and he has nightmares nearly every night, and sometimes his anxiety makes him shake so hard his leg can't hold him, but he'll be damned if he doesn't try. Because Hermann is not good at interacting with people, but he's also not good at giving up.

“Listen, Newton. Back when we were writing letters to each other, back when the first attacks came, I had no idea what we were getting into. And when we met in person, I didn't even like you. Years later I still didn't like you. You were obnoxious and loud and irrational and far too enthusiastic about kaiju. I didn't understand you. Newton, we've drifted together. I've been in your head. I know you now. I _understand_ you.”

“Hermann—”

He holds up a hand for silence, feeling his other hand go numb from the grip on his cane. “No, listen to me, Newton. I understand now. You _are_ strong enough. Everything is intense with you, it's obsessive. Your dedication to science, your fascination with kaiju, your tunnel vision on whatever project you've set your sights on. It takes hold of you and doesn't let go until you're finished. You never wanted to end the world, you wanted to save it.”

“Hermann—”

“You _are_ strong enough, Newton. Make your new obsession about beating them. Take your mind back. You're a good man, Newton. You saved the world, once, remember? If you can do that, you can save yourself.”

The sound of laughter dumps cold fear across Hermann's spine. Newton is laughing at him, a sharp black grin on his face. “Did you really think that was going to work, Doctor Gottlieb? A little motivational speech?” The thing says with Newton's mouth. “Did you really think you could get to him without us listening in? We're in him, all the way through. He's not strong enough to fight us. He never will be. We _are_ Newton Geizsler.”

“Newton, you _can_ fight this. You know this isn't about how you were treated; after the war was over the two of us were the most important scientists working for the PPDC. _We_ were the ones who found the solution to closing the breach.” He's shaking, and he's not sure if it's panic or fury, but it twists his face into a grimace of desperation. “You're a _good man_ , Newton, and a brilliant scientist. They've infected you, like a virus. You're a cryptozoologist, you know their weaknesses. You can _beat_ them.”

He's met only with laughter.

“Doctor Gottlieb,” Jake's voice is stern. Hermann sighs. The futility of it all wraps itself around him like a horrible, smothering blanket.

“Releasing neural link in three, two, one.”

A beat of silence, and Hermann can feel his heartbeat in his ears. He leans heavily on his cane, unable to look directly at Newton, at the thing piloting Newton's body like its own personal Jaeger. Like he's not a living, breathing _person_. But he's not anymore, is he? Two guards enter and remove the skullcap helmet, but the precursors' eyes never leave Hermann's face. The smile on Newton's face is sharklike and cold, with no trace of the enthusiastic, obnoxious doctor. Hemann's shoulders slump as he turns away to follow the soldiers back into the corridor.

“Hermann,” Newton's voice stops him, and he turns, even though he knows he's not going to see anything but the precursor grinning at him. “We knew you'd give up on him. He'll never be strong enough.”

Cold, alien laughter follows them out to the corridor, and Hermann leans against the wall, trying to breathe. He knows it was a long shot, that there was one chance in a million of it working. But, god, when he'd been saying those things to Newton, he had really, really wanted it to work. He knows that laughter will follow him into his nightmares.

The kaiju precursors wanted him to give up on Newton. He's never been good at ceding control of anything. He can't believe it's on this that he's willing to forfeit.

 


End file.
